Returning Home
by Sp1RalEy3
Summary: Kyr Bloodsworn is Nord, but one long absent from his home province. After many years serving as a mercenary throughout Tamriel, he has returned to Skyrim in search of more meaning in life. But his mercenary days are far from over, and past brutality may very well catch up with him...
1. Chapter 1: Back from the Hunt

Chapter I: Back from the Hunt

"Ah, bloody hell, this feels good."

"It should, after today's fecking…what did you call it? Oh, right, 'an adventure'."

Kyr chuckled, observing his companions battered appearance. The dancing light coming from the fire revealed a lovely pattern of bruises on Sven's arms and face. "It's not my fault you that you decided to skin the saber cat while it was still quite alive."

"It wasn't like that," said Sven, grimacing as he shifted sitting positions.

"I believe that I observed the event in full from my position," replied Kyr. "You should know by now that Skyrim's beasts are a bit more prickly in temperament than what is common down south."

The fire suddenly produced a crackling noise, as juices from the thick saber cat roast dripped into the flames. Grasping the spit it was skewered on, Kyr lifted it off the stand and cut two large slices, passing one to Sven. The fresh, tender cut of meat proved to be more than worth the effort involved in procuring it, especially once they washed it down with a sour alto wine.

The fire slowly died down to embers, but the heat that provided was little needed. Falkreath was warm this time of year, even at night. The clear sky above where the two companions lay revealed a vast litany of stars. Both fell asleep to the one of the best sights Skyrim offered.

Groggily rising from a deep slumber, Kyr began breaking camp. The early morning sun was just peaking over the thick trees that surrounded the camp. When Sven didn't awake from the sounds of Kyr's work, he chucked a pack at him, prompting an abrupt and confused grunt. Within a short while, the only remains from their stay were ashes and flattened grass.

A brief walk while eating hard bread brought them to the main road leading back to the town of Falkreath. By afternoon they arrived, and then proceeded to hawk their carefully wrapped pelts to the populace. Scantly populated as it was, Falkreath had plenty of citizens in need of furs, and they sold their inventory quickly.

"Never has been the friendliest place for strangers, to be sure," noted Sven after a few minutes walking away from the town

"I believe you just described the entirety of Skyrim quite accurately, my friend."

Sven muttered something along the lines of "sarcastic bastard" under his breath as they continued along the road.

Evening found the two skirting around Lake Ilinalta, having encountered no trouble on their journey. The made camp near the water in a copse of trees, and rested for the night. Daybreak found them continuing towards Riverwood.

"Not to many beasts to be seen in this area," said Kyr

"Overhunted, I think," replied Sven, "It's been this way as long as I have lived here. You can blame Faendal."

"Don't you think you should just let that little grudge go?"

"Hell no! That bastard deserves all he gets from me and more."

Kyr chuckled. "We'll have to drop by and say hello once we reach Riverwood."

"Definitely not. If I see that prick I'll…"

Both of them looked up at the sound wood snapping. In the emptiness of the forest, it sounded like an explosion to their sensitive ears, trained from months of hunting. Realizing their ambush was botched, the bandits who had produced the noise burst from trees.

With trained reflexes, Kyr whipped the crossbow off his back, drew the string back, loaded a bolt from his hip quiver, and fired it directly into the lead bandit's gut. Lightly armored as he was, the bandit was knocked over by the force of the shot, causing one of his partners to trip over him. The last bandit came to a quick end by Kyr's hand axe.

The tripped bandit tried to rise, but found a crossbow in his face. Sven bound his hands, then rolled him to the side of the road. Kyr and Sven then looted all the gold from the bandits and informed the bound one that a guard would no doubt be along shortly.

"You know, you could at least let me help a little bit in one of these fights," said Sven, as the two continued their journey.

"Wouldn't want to damage those harp-playing hands, my friend. Your wife might get a bit pissed if I let that happen."

"Fuck you. I have other methods of making money besides playing in taverns…"

"Your wife's shop? So much for being the breadwinner."

Sven gave Kyr a thoroughly angry look, then stormed of down the road. Kyr pulled his axe from the bandit it was lodged in, wiped it on the nearby grass, and then followed his companion.

Riverwood was going to be fun.


	2. Chapter 2: Riverwood

Chapter 2: Riverwood

_Authors Note: Thanks to all of the readers who checked out the first chapter. This series is as of now a planned 5 chapter series. All reviews are much appreciated, as this is my first real stab at writing fanfiction. It should be noted that the events in this story take place after the end of the main Skyrim questline, and that Kyr is not the Dragonborn. Enjoy chapter 2!_

Kyr slung his pack on the chair and sat on the bed, breathing a sigh of satisfaction. As much as sleeping under the stars afforded clean air and a fine view, the inn's feather beds made for stiff competition. Especially compared to month of hunting, with every night spent on a simple fur blanket, this was paradise. He set to work untying the straps of his hide armor, hanging it on the bedpost alongside his quiver. After unstringing his crossbow and rubbing it over with special oil, he slipped on a tunic and headed into the main room of the inn.

Riverwood's inn was typical of Skyrim's resting houses, with a large open fire and tables skirting the walls. Rough benches provided relative comfort for guests, while the food was hearty fare. Sven stood in a corner, tuning his lyre for the evening's entertainment. Which meant free food and drink for Sven, while Kyr had to pay his hard-earned gold for a meal.

Sitting down at a table, Kyr asked the serving girl for whatever was hanging on the spit, along with a bottle of alto wine. Sven began to play a simple tune upon his lyre, while Kyr enjoyed his meal. Aside from the occasional hard looks from the bartender, it appeared the night would go well. Which was good, considering earlier events…

After completing a rather high-profile contract in High Rock with the mercenary band he had been a part of, the group had collectively decided it was best to split apart and scatter. They had made quite a few enemies over the years due to their 'get the job done no matter what' mantra, and things were coming to a head.

Having not been back to his home province in Skyrim for nearly ten years, Kyr decided to return. He took up hunting and selling furs and meat in order to shake of any pursuers who suspected his real profession. Riverwood became a regular stop to sell furs, due to its general store. It was on one of these trips Kyr first met Sven. And Faendal, of course.

Sven had been playing at the tavern much like tonight when Kyr had struck up a conversation with him. After some light banter, he learned of Sven's love for a certain Camilla Valerius. He also learned of Sven's competition coming from a certain wood elf named Faendal.

Kyr had pushed the situation in Sven's favor, which thoroughly pissed of Faendal, who turned out to be quite the prick about the whole situation. Events escalated quickly, initiated by Faendal coming to have a 'talk' with Sven. The talk turned into one epic bar fight which somehow spilled into the main town, and resulted in innumerable bruises and quite a bit of property damage.

The lot of them, Kyr, Sven, Faendal, several guards, and even Camilla proceeded to get drunk afterwards. Faendal turned out to be a semi nice fellow even. You had to keep him wasted, though.

The sound of Sven plopping down on the bench beside him roused Kyr from his reverie, and he took a long pull of wine.

"What were you thinking about? You had a glazed over look, and I don't think anyone can get drunk that fast."

"Just remembering good times in the jolly town of Riverwood."

"More like expensive times. The amount of gold it took to pay for all the damage wasn't particularly jolly."

"Point taken." Kyr passed the flagon to Sven, who took a quick gulp.

"Damn!" exclaimed Sven as he winced at the taste. "Do you always have to buy the sourest vintage available?"

"You never did have a stomach for much other than honey mead," replied Kyr. "Where is that Faendal bastard anyways? Sulking in his house?"

"Camilla said he's away on family business, not even in Skyrim."

"Interesting. How is Camilla?"

"She wants me to stay here for a while. Frostfall is nearly upon us, and there is work that needs doing."

"Oh, but I will miss your complaining."

"That's very funny, you fucker."

Kyr grinned and drained the last of the wine. The fire had died down, but the room remained quite warm. He went and paid in advance for the night's stay and the meal, as well as buying some provisions for his continued journey. Sven joined him at the counter.

"Where you off to now, then?"

"Whiterun. See what Elrindir is up too. I'll leave early, so say hi to Camilla for me."

"Divines watch over you, friend."

Kyr nodded, then headed to his room, closing the door behind. He hoped for no trouble on the way, but the Divines had long since abandoned him.


	3. Chapter 3: The Past's Return

Chapter 3: The Past's Return

After eating a meager breakfast at the inn, Kyr stepped out and began the walk to Whiterun. The mist floating off of the stream that ran alongside the village gave the morning an eerie appearance. Once outside the town, Kyr stepped onto the bridge that crossed the stream, but stopped when he saw who was there.

"Sven? What are you doing here?"

"Look, Kyr. I know we haven't known each other long, but I can tell that you are hiding something. You never did tell the circumstances you came back to Skyrim under."

Kyr looked at Sven, wondering what had prompted this question. _Well, might as well get it over with. Better explain a little now over a lot later. _

"I'll give you the short version. Remember when I told you I came back via High Rock," said Kyr. "That's the truth. However, the reason for my return is a bit complicated. See, I left Skyrim ten years ago, after the murder of my parents and little sister by bandits. I left seeking an outlet for my anger at feckless scum like those bandits and the world in general."

Kyr continued. "I eventually joined a band of mercenaries, who took me on despite the fact I knew little about fighting. My physique was honed after years of working the family farm, and that was enough for them."

"Over the years, we gained quite the reputation for our ruthless pursuit any contract we were assigned, provided you had the coin. We ended up in High Rock roughly ten months ago working for an especially affluent client. Wanted us to take out some especially bothersome family members who were raising a small army against him."

"As it turned out, those family members turned out to be willing to pay even more for us to join them. Half of our group took that deal, including me, thus betraying the rest of the band. Things got way out of hand, and the full-scale blood feud that ensued left both families largely destroyed."

"But most of us mercs survived. Those of us who had decided to betray the rest of the band agreed we should head for Skyrim and split up, taking up different professions and identities. That's how I became a 'hunter' and ended up meeting you."

Sven was sitting on the edge of the bridge, with a rather dumbstruck look on his face.

"By the Divines, you have quite the history Kyr."

"You could say that. And that is why I need to keep moving. Can I trust you not to rat me out should any certain mercenaries come through the area?"

"Aye, you won't find me betraying you to any fucking mercs," said Sven, a determined look on his face.

"I could take that as an insult you know," said Kyr, chuckling. "Farewell, for now."

Remarkably, the trip to Whiterun proved to be largely uneventful, aside from some wolves that attempted to make quick work of Kyr, resulting in him skinning the lot of them. The city was much the same as Kyr's last visit: Smoky from numerous fires burning in all the houses, children playing merrily in the street, and guards slacking off in a big way.

He immediately took the path up to the Drunken Huntsman, and smiled slightly as he walked in. Elrindir was at his usual position behind the counter, counting out septims. Shrugging of his pack and walking up to the counter, Kyr rolled the wolf skins out.

"How much for these fuckers?"

Elrindir looked up, a typically snarky look on his face. "I wouldn't pay more than ten gold for the lot of them, mangy bastards."

"Listen elf, I want a good bloody price for them, they nearly bit my arse off!"

Elrindir couldn't help but crack a smile at that. "It is good to see you, Kyr. How goes it, undercover?"

"Well. You?"

Elrindir made an attempt to reply, but a voice from the background cut him off. "You two really should be more cautious in you speech."

Whirling around, Kyr saw what he hadn't seen before: a Dark Elf, fully armored and armed, sitting at a corner table.

"Sneaky as ever, Jenassa. Looks like a real gathering of old friends now!"

"You should not have come," replied Jenassa.

"I need to hear what the situation is."

"You won't like it," Jenassa's face was grim. "He's found us."


End file.
